


Untitled Wincest

by Ninni



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pining!Sam, Sam wants Dean, Wincest - Freeform, and sammy won't have it, but Dean is a Good Big Brother, dean wants sam, leettle bit of weecest, pining!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninni/pseuds/Ninni
Summary: All the pining, all the angst. Opops.





	

Sam kissed Dean for the first time when he was fourteen.

 _It’s ‘bout time you tried some beer, right kiddo?_ Dean had grinned as he’d put a sixpack on the table and flopped down onto the motel room’s couch. Two beers in, and Sam’s liquid courage had him crawling onto Dean’s lap, nuzzling against Dean’s warm throat, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his big brother. “Dean,” he’d mumbled, sheer _want_ bleeding into his voice, and Dean had gone stiff with resistance beneath him.

“Sam get off me, you lightweight,” Dean tried to joke, but Sam had leant forwards, pressed his lips to Dean’s soft mouth clumsily as his fingers curled around his brother’s nape.

Dean had instantly pushed him away, so roughly that Sam tumbled off the couch and onto the table, knocking over their bottles. “What the hell are you doing, Sammy?” Dean had asked, face ashen, fingers touching his lips as though he couldn’t believe what had just touched them.  

Sam’s face had been hot with shame as he’d stared at Dean, humiliated tears blurring the edges of his vision. “I just – I wanted… Dean, please?” he stammered, terrified, because Dean was looking at him like he’d never seen him before; like Sam was a stranger.

“Sammy, no,” Dean said, voice low. “I can’t be _that_ for you. You understand that, right? It’s not… It’s not right.”

Sam nodded jerkily as the tears finally made their way down his cheeks.

He knew. He knew he was a freak, only someone truly messed up in their head would allow themselves to fall in love with their own big brother.

*

The second time Sam kissed Dean, he was stone cold sober, and pissed off.

The Montana night was stuffy and warm around them where they stood at the parking lot in front of their current shit motel called home, Dean leaning against the Impala, hands shoved into his pockets. The air around them smelled of flowers and sunburned asphalt, and it made Sam sick to his stomach.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sammy,” Dean said, “Dad’s in charge. If he thinks you’re too young to come with on this hunt, that’s final. I can’t change his mind.”

Sam felt the frustration in his damn teeth as he grit out, “You sure didn’t have any problem convincing him to let _you_ come with when you were sixteen. Just fucking admit that it’s you who don’t want me to come with, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, the light from the ugly florescent signs draining his handsome face from all its color. “I shouldn’t have been allowed to come with when I was your age, Sam. I was a kid, for fuck’s sake, and so are you. You need to be protected from all this for as long as possible, can’t you see that? I just want what’s best for you, damn it!”

Sam let out a snorting sort of laughter as he took a step towards Dean. “That’s what you tell yourself, Dean? That you’re protecting me? Cut the bullshit. You know as well as I do that you don’t want me to come with because you don’t want to share the backseat with your freak of a little brother.”

Dean glanced worriedly at the motel door, then shoved Sam in the chest. “Keep your voice down Sam, you want dad to hear you?” he growled out, his voice low and laced with anger.

“Yeah, what would he say?” Sam drawled, shoving Dean back, pushing him up against the Impala again. “What would he say if he knew what a freak I am, having the hots for my big brother? You know Dean, I’ve seen the way you look at me, I _know_ you feel this too. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

Sam was in Dean’s space now, Sam glaring up into Dean’s shocked face. “I don’t – I don’t _look at you_ , fuck Sammy, where are you getting this?”

The small, heated space between them seemed to quiver as Sam reached out and pulled Dean’s head down, kissing him hard and ruthlessly. Dean _whimpered_ , hands gripping Sam’s shoulders, not pulling him closer nor pushing him away but simply holding him in place, his mouth opening beneath Sam’s for a moment before he hastily turned away, letting go of Sam as though burned, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Sam stared with hooded eyes, breathing heavily. When he finally spoke, he sounded defeated. “So, is this how it’s going to be? Are we just going to fight this for the rest of our lives?”  

Dean’s eyes didn’t meet Sam’s when he said: “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

*

Sam asked Dean to kiss him for the first time when he was eighteen.

Dean stood in front of him, eyes wide and terrified, a piece of paper in a fancy shade of eggshell clutched in his hand. “Sammy… Sammy, what is this?”

Sam swallowed, rising to his feet as he crossed his arms over his chest. “An acceptance letter. From Stanford. You can read, right?”

Dean stared at him, and Sam couldn’t recall when Dean had looked this young to him, like a child, his eyes uncertain and vulnerable. Dean asked hoarsely: “You’re going to California?”

“Yes.”

Dean took a hesitant step forwards, eyes pleading. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Sam, please. Man, I’m begging you. You can’t leave.”

Sam watched Dean, his chest aching. The love he felt for Dean was rivalled only by his despise for him; how _dared_ Dean ask anything from Sam, how dared he imply that he needed him, how dared he _toy_ with him like this?  

“Sam,” Dean murmured, stepping into Sam’s personal space and the scent that was so simply _Dean_ made Sam go weak in the knees. “What do I have to do to make you stay?”

Sam’s hands trembled as he cupped Dean’s face; observing every freckle, every dark eyelash framing his impossibly green eyes, trying frantically to memorize his brother’s face. “You know what I want, Dean,” Sam whispered, not trusting himself to speak up. “And I can’t stay here, with you but not _with you,_ forever. It hurts too much, it breaks me down, I just can’t anymore. I have to go.”

Dean’s fingers curled around Sam’s wrist, their foreheads resting against each other as they allowed themselves to share a breath, to share a small, fleeting moment of intimacy. Sam could feel Dean’s entire body tremble; he could feel Dean’s pulse flutter impossibly fast beneath his fingertips. “Kiss me,” Sam begged in a whisper, his lips almost brushing against Dean’s. “Kiss me, and I’ll stay.”

“I’m so sorry Sammy,” Dean croaked. “It ain’t right. I can’t. _We can’t_.”

Later, as Dean numbly watches the door slam shut behind Sam, Dean wonders morbidly if this is what amputation feels like.  

*

Sam spends years not thinking about Dean. He spends years learning how to simply let the memory of Dean’s laugh and scent fade, he spends years not looking at photos or talking about his brother. He becomes so good at it that he _finally_ learns how to fall in love with Jessica, a sweet little thing that should’ve taken seconds, not _years_ , to fall in love with.

Once he does, he feels it. He feels normal, for the first time in his life, and it’s an oddly anticlimactic sensation. He just realizes one day, sitting in class, that he finally lives a normal life. He isn’t some misfit kid on the road anymore; he isn’t spending his nights salting and burning, he isn’t the freak who wants his brother so much he aches from it, not anymore.

The following night Sam dreams of pale skin dusted by freckles, he dreams of the scent of soap and motor oil, he dreams of low, pearly laughter in the backseat of a 67-Impala. His face is streaked by tears when he wakes up and Jessica asks him who Dean is, because apparently, Sam talks in his sleep.

Sam feels like the wound he’s spent years trying to carefully and methodically heal has been brutally torn open again.

*

Dean walks back into Sam’s life with a shit-eating grin slapped on his face, and Sam wants to punch him in the mouth. Dean waltzes back into Sam’s sphere again, crawls back under Sam’s skin with a single bat of his fucking ridiculous eyelashes and Sam hates Dean almost as much as he hates himself for how powerless he is against Dean, still, even after all these years of fucking _deantox_.

Then Jessica burns and Sam’s last barrier against Dean crumbles and dies with her, and he can’t seem to control himself. He shoves Dean up against the wall of their motel room, finding a small satisfaction in the fact that Dean must look up at _him_ these days. “What do you want from me, Dean?” Sam growls, “Why are you _here_?”

Dean’s _theworldismine_ smug smirk is gone, and he glares up at Sam. “I’m here because dad’s gone, _frat boy_ ,” Dean sneers.  

Sam does punch him then, fist crashing into Dean’s face with a satisfying crunch.

Dean reels from the impact before he straightens himself up and glares at Sam, challengingly, as he wipes blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “Feeling better now?” he asks in a low, contemptuous grumble.

“Like you ever cared,” Sam says, bitterly, before he punches Dean again.

Dean doesn’t hit him back, he simply takes all of Sam’s punches, and once Sam comes to his senses Dean is blue and swollen, blood dripping down his chest. Sam stops himself, backs away from Dean who, without Sam’s grip to hold him up, collapses against the wall and slumps to the floor like a ragdoll.

Sam storms away from their motel but he doesn’t even make it across the parking lot before he bends over and vomits.

*

When Sam returns in the morning, Dean is asleep.

Sam’s brought two cheap takeaway coffees with him, and he puts them gingerly on the table before he walks into the bathroom and soaks a towel in cold water. He sinks down on Dean’s bed and starts to wipe his brother’s face, carefully, swallowing as Dean flinches in his sleep.

Dean’s face is unrecognizable, and Sam cringes as he looks at his own bloody knuckles.

Dean’s eyes draws open, and he croaks: “Sam?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says immediately; “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“Nah,” Dean forces out around a smile that Sam can tell is painful. “I had it coming.”

Sam has something on the tip of his tongue, but the gleam in Dean’s eyes makes him falter, because Sam’s still so stupidly in love with this boy, and Dean could always weaken him with _a fucking look_.  

“Sam,” Dean offers quietly, “Will you come here for a bit?”

Sam doesn’t even speak, he simply crawls beneath Dean’s covers and wraps an arm around his brother.

Dean nose is burrowed in Sam’s hair when he whispers: “You’re shaking, Sammy.”

“Don’t tell me to leave,” Sam whispers into the washed cotton of Dean’s T-shirt. “I can’t leave you. Not again. I don’t know how.”

“You couldn’t leave me again even if you tried,” Dean says softly into the morning light. “I don’t _live_ without you, Sam.”

Sam moves then, pops himself up on his elbow and glances down into Dean’s injured face. “You did,” he mumbles, “For a while, you did.”

Dean’s fingers threads through Sam’s hair and he says simply: “No, Sammy, I didn’t. I tried, god help me, I tried. I tried so hard to live without you, without my stupid baby brother, but I couldn’t. I tried to tell myself that what we had wasn’t… Wasn’t _this_ , but it is, and I, fuck it Sam, I can’t anymore. I need to be with you. I need you, please, I know I’ve said shit but you know that it’s just _shit_ , right? I need you, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes meets Dean’s, and everything Dean isn’t eloquent enough to say is written right there in his terrified eyes, and Sam isn’t scared anymore. He leans down and presses his lips softly against Dean’s, his heart fluttering in his chest as he feels Dean pull him closer.

When they break for air, dizzy and shyly well-kissed, Sam asks, because he needs to know: “Did you feel the same? In the beginning, did you feel it?”

Dean kisses his forehead, then he says, softly: “Since the fire, Sam.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment, and thanks for reading dears.   
> -Ninni


End file.
